


Breathe

by a_taller_tale



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, Injury, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale
Summary: If anyone asked Dexter Grif if he would ever sacrifice himself for anyone else in this stupid war he would’ve said “pfft, no.”It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Grif or Simmons, when Grif leapt in front of him and took the bullet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompted grimmons - "Look at me - Just breathe, okay?"

If anyone asked Dexter Grif if he would ever sacrifice himself for anyone else in this stupid war he would’ve said “ _pfft, no._ ” 

Grif hadn’t volunteered to be here for the guts and glory or the shitty pay. Grif had pissed off God or the asshole running the local UNSC recruitment office and got himself drafted. 

No one would ever tell him he was noble and he wasn’t an idiot. His death would make no difference to anyone. They were so fucking disorganized they might not even notify Kai when someone inevitably killed him. 

Grif wasn’t like some morons who were here thinking they had a career. Some idiot who would let a madman carve up his body and make him a fucking cyborg so a teammate he didn’t even think liked him would live. Grif wasn’t that grade of stupid. 

So it was hard to tell who was more surprised, Grif or Simmons, when Grif leapt in front of him and took the bullet.

Grif, unfortunately, had lots of experience being shot since joining Red Team. But this wasn’t a sadistic game with Sarge that was only semi-serious. Now they were on Chorus and there were still space pirates around with fucking laser weapons.

He didn’t see where it came from, and there was only a second to react. He just saw the projectile coming for them and threw himself in front of Simmons. 

The shock of pain made his hearing and vision fuzz out and he wished it had stayed that way when he came out of his shock to blinding pain and Simmons’ helmet in his face. 

Simmons was also shaking him, which couldn’t be good for the new hole in his guts, although laser wounds were at least self-cauterizing right? “Stop! Jesus!” 

“Oh my god, Grif! Why would you do that?!” Simmons was hysterical and Grif was a little confused as to why he’d done the stupid thing too, so he couldn’t really help with an explanation. 

“If I’d known how much you’d bitch about me saving your life that probably would’ve influenced my decision.” 

“Half my body is made of an advanced polymer! It can take hits better than my old organs! You’ve ruined them, haven’t you?!” Simmons ended his tirade gasping for air. Figured he would yell until he couldn’t breathe. “You—!” 

Grif could hear Simmons trying to suck in air, but none of it made it in. He wasn’t breathing. 

No way. Simmons was _not_ having a panic attack right now. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? _I’m the wounded one._ ” 

Simmons’ eyes were probably bugging now, his face going from red to blue, like the last time this happened. 

Grif sat up, not thinking about the injury he was probably nobly dying from because he had to save this fucking basket case from killing himself. “Simmons.” 

Simmons’ helmet was tilted down and he continued to gasp unproductively. This was bad. If Grif died, would Simmons just stop being able to breathe? So much for making his sacrifice worth it. 

Grif grabbed Simmons’ hands. His gloves were clawed into tight fists and Grif squeezed hard to get his attention. “Hey. Look at me. Just breathe, okay?” 

Grif couldn’t see his face under the shining visor but he could hear that the waterworks were already going in the choked sob that counted as Simmons’ attempt. 

“Again.” 

Normally, Grif was the only person in the entire universe Simmons wouldn’t take orders from, but he shook and tried another breath. Slowly Simmons started breathing normally again. Grif breathed with him, gripping his wrists. 

“What in tarnation are you two doin’?” 

“Looks like they’re meditating, Sarge!” Donut chimed in, the red and pink armored soldiers making their way to where Grif and Simmons were sitting. “…That’s disappointing. I heard heavy breathing over the radio.” 

“What do you mean that’s disappointing? What did you think we were doing?!” Simmons bitched hoarsely, wrenching his hands away from Grif. Nothing like a little external anxiety to shock him out of a panic. 

“Looks like Grif found my flare!” Sarge said. “Heh heh. Bull’s eye.” 

“It wasn’t a laser?” Grif looked down. There was a burn hole in his suit and when he poked the area he could feel some minor skin irritation. “Huh. Looks like I’m not hurt.” 

“Great news!” Sarge said. “Aside from Grif not being hurt, of course. This means the targeting system Lopez and I rigged together is in perfect working order!” 

“I hate you," Simmons said, his voice still on the edge of tears. "I hate you all.” He stomped off without looking back. 

That was good, Grif thought leaning against the wall and digging in his leg compartment for a snack or a smoke. He had some shit to think about.


End file.
